Flashbacks from grad school and restaurant work aside, I'm not exactly sure how I wound up starting off my 4th of July morning with these?
1) Question:
"Your regimen involves running 10 miles every other day, a ton of push-ups and a strict one-meal-a-day policy, of which you once wrote, “By dinner, I’m starving; more crucially, I’m deserving.”
Answer:
"I
can see how the fact that I eat one meal a day is eye-catching for a
journalist, but you know, David Petraeus eats one meal a day, and nobody
says that’s a really disturbed relationship to food. The assumption
with David Petraeus is, Oh, that’s a military man. In women the
assumption is you’re some kind of neurotic."
--
http://www.nytimes.com/2013/06/16/magazine/lionel-shriver-does-it-the-hard-way.html?_r=0
~~~~~
2) "The men reminded me of frat boys or something, the type of guys who see getting drunk in public as a way to assert prowess.
They
left around one in the morning. I stood by the table and watched them
go, dazed and relieved. An older waitress, still an aspiring actress at
age 50, came up and said, "Now there goes a cautionary tale.'...I was mad that the old waitress who called herself an actress
thought of him rather than herself as the cautionary table. Hers was the
fate I feared for myself, not his. And I was mad that Jay Mac made it
easy for her to think that. Before I knew who this guy at my table was,
I’d already decided I didn’t like him. I never disliked any strangers.
Except the ones at this table. And then, that old waitress told me who
he was, and I almost lost my mind...
So I left. I moved to Milledgeville, Georgia, where I wrote all day and
read thick books and when I got stuck on the thick books, I bailed
myself out with Jay McInerney. Reading McInerney in Georgia, his work
came to feel like an elegy for a phase I was glad to be done with. And,
reading McInerney in the South has its charms. He writes about the South
a lot. Alison in
Story of My Life is from Virginia.
The Last of the Savages takes place in the Delta. Jeff from
The Good Life recovers
from his affair’s fallout in Tennessee. But reading Jay Mac from the
distant precinct of the Deep South, his world started to look, maybe,
quaint? Like, taking it as self-evident that beautiful women,
financiers, and writers made for the sexiest possible conglomerate of
people was a tired-out trope?
I met a girl in Milledgeville. We were at a party and I was fucked up
out of my mind and I’ll never forget how her entrance sprung me from my
stupor, so incredible was her beauty and command of the room...I don’t know what the hell’s going to happen with her, but at least
she’s 21 now, so when I pull into town, I can take her to dinner at
Minetta and we can legally split a bottle of wine.
I have a fantasy that Jay Mac will be seated right beside me."
--
http://www.salon.com/2012/10/03/jay_mcinerney_the_new_york_fantasy_and_wine_salpart/
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